Tag: Steve Martin

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Wood Box Heroes, Ashby Frank, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

This week, our premiere round-up is chock-full of amazing new music. From a Chris Stapleton co-write from bluegrass-meets-country supergroup Wood Box Heroes to a Terry Baucom tribute from bluegrasser Ashby Frank, plus songs from Americana singer-songwriter Jack McKeon, guitarist Yann Falquet, and Asheville’s Holler Choir.

Plus, don’t miss exclusive premieres from banjo magnates Alison Brown and Steve Martin, and a posthumous release from Chick Corea with his friend and collaborator Béla Fleck.

It’s all right here on BGS – and really, You Gotta Hear This!

Wood Box Heroes, “Cannonball”

Artist: Wood Box Heroes
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Cannonball”
Album: 444
Release Date: March 15, 2024 (single)

In Their Words: “‘Cannonball’ is a song I wrote a while back with Chris Stapleton. I was trying to figure out a new way to talk about the ‘love and war/love as war/love is war’ theme and of course, Chris helped to bring that to life so well. I never made a demo, just the voice memo. Hearing Chris’s amazing singing on it could be a daunting thing for lots of artists to get past, but I knew Josh Martin could handle it, so I pitched it to the Heroes for this project. It took a while to sink in with them, but I’m beyond thrilled with the treatment they gave it!” – Barry Bales

Track Credits:

Barry Bales – upright bass, vocals
Jenee Fleenor – fiddle, vocals
Josh Martin – guitar, vocals
Matt Menefee – banjo
Seth Taylor – mandolin, vocals

Produced by Wood Box Heroes.
Recorded by Brandon Bell at Sound Emporium; Nashville, Tennessee.
Mixed by Brandon Bell.
Mastered by Eric Conn at Independent Mastering; Nashville, Tennessee.

Ashby Frank, “Knee Deep in Bluegrass”

Artist: Ashby Frank
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Knee Deep In Bluegrass”
Release Date: March 15, 2024
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “‘Knee Deep in Bluegrass’ is a tune written and originally recorded by my friend and former Mashville Brigade bandmate, banjo legend Terry Baucom. Sadly, Terry passed away in December. When we recently gathered to start recording my next album, it happened to be the day after his funeral. All of us had Bauc and his wife, Cindy, on our minds. Remembering this song, I messaged Cindy, asking if it would be ok to record a slightly modified version of ‘Knee Deep’ as a tribute to him and she graciously approved. Bauc was performing at the first festival I ever attended in Denton, NC. His style and persona has been an inspiration to me ever since that first meeting. I think Matt Menefee, Travis Anderson, Jim Van Cleve, Seth Taylor, and Tony Creasman really nailed their parts on the tune. I hope our recording brings back fond memories for anyone who knew Terry and will honor him as he so richly deserves.” – Ashby Frank

Jack McKeon, “Last Slice of Heaven”

Artist: Jack McKeon
Hometown: Chatham, New York; currently residing in Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Last Slice of Heaven”
Album: Talking to Strangers
Release Date: June 21, 2024

In Their Words: “I was working at a house in Williamson County, on a stretch of road that is flanked by two separate but equally cookie-cutter developments. Across from this house and squarely in the middle of all this new, was a vacant field, a decrepit barn festering in the corner. At some point that field must have meant food, crops, and a living. Now it seems to only conjure the image of an older person sitting on a potential windfall when they sell out to a developer. But with all that money comes the death of the beautiful things that made that life worth living. My boss noticed me looking at this field and facetiously said, ‘Oh, didn’t you know? These developments all come with their own complimentary field to look at.’ I wrote this song to give a voice to the person I imagined holding on to this ‘Last Slice of Heaven,’ a character at odds with the transformation around him who’s fighting to hold on to his own identity in spite of ‘a world that’s always changing what it means to be the same.'” – Jack McKeon

Track Credits:

Jack McKeon – Guitar/vocal
Ashby Frank – Mandolin/harmony vocal
Vickie Vaughn – Upright bass/harmony vocal
Christian Sedelmyer – Fiddle
Justin Moses – Banjo
Engineered by Sean Sullivan at the Tractor Shed Goodlettsville, Tennessee.
Mastered by Justin Perkins at Mystery Room Mastering.

Video Credit: Brooke Stevens

Yann Falquet, “Courage”

Artist: Yann Falquet
Hometown: Brattleboro, Vermont
Song: “Courage”
Album: Les secrets du ciel
Release Date: March 15, 2024 (single); May 3, 2024 (album)

In Their Words: “I moved from Québec to New England a couple of years ago. My instrumental background was compatible with the fiddle styles I encountered here (Appalachian, Irish, Scottish, etc.), but I quickly realized that I had to rethink the way I approached songs. Back in French Canada, traditional singers often perform unaccompanied, and rely heavily on others in the room to participate in the ‘response’ part of call-and-response songs. For this project, I began reframing these songs into a more English or American ‘folk singer’ format, and had a lot of fun coming up with interesting guitar parts in DADGAD tuning. I then collaborated with producer Quinn Bachand and a bunch of fantastic musicians to add extra musical layers to the song.

“‘Courage’ comes from the repertoire of the Voyageur folks who paddled across North America, using songs to keep paddling in rhythm. It tells the story of a young soldier who abandons war for the pursuit of love, knowing well the consequences if he gets caught.” – Yann Falquet

Track Credits:

Yann Falquet – Guitar, voice
Julia Friend – Voice
Keith Murphy – Pump organ
Trent Freeman – Violin
Quinn Bachand – Violin, bass pedal

Quinn Bachand – Producer, engineer
Charles-Émile Beaudin – Mixing engineer
Philip Shaw Bova – Masterin engineer

Holler Choir, “Hamlet Blues”

Artist: Holler Choir
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina
Song: “Hamlet Blues”
Album: Songs Before They Write Themselves
Release Date: January 12, 2024

In Their Words: “I can’t speak to everyone else’s tastes, but for the purpose of songs that I perform and have written, ‘Hamlet Blues’ is my most timeless song. I know this because 10 years after having written it, it’s just now seeing a definitive release, and it feels no less personally relevant than the day I wrote it.

“There’s a very intentional juxtaposition between the carefree energy of the music and the existential crisis portrayed in the lyrics. It’s a cognitive dissonance that I’ve experienced in different settings many times in life, and I chose to channel that energy into this song. There’s a smiling nihilism that can be found at any college bar. Kids drinking to excess, with little regard for what’s happening tomorrow. Seemingly happy people, sitting on a fault line that is long overdue. I wanted to capture the dread that was the humming drone in my head beneath whatever pop song was blaring over the bar speakers at the time. I don’t find this sentiment any less relevant for bars I go into as an adult.” – Clint Roberts

Alison Brown & Steve Martin, “Bluegrass Radio”

Artist: Alison Brown & Steve Martin
Hometown: La Jolla, California (Alison); Waco, Texas (Steve)
Song: “Bluegrass Radio”
Release Date: March 15, 2024
Label: Compass Records

In Their Words: “This little tune brings a ton of joy to me. Alison’s playing is flawless, and my singing is flaw-full.” – Steve Martin

Read more here.

Chick Corea & Béla Fleck, “Remembrance”

Artist: Chick Corea & Béla Fleck
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Remembrance”
Album: Remembrance
Release Date: May 10, 2024
Label: Béla Fleck Productions (Thirty Tigers)

In Their Words: “’Remembrance’ is one of the last pieces of music Chick ever recorded. It’s just one of those perfect Chick Corea tunes. It sounds to me like a New Orleans funeral march, even though it has a Latin component, like everything he did tended to.” – Béla Fleck

More here.

Photo Credits: Wood Box Heroes by Eric Ahlgrim; Ashby Frank by Melissa DuPuy

WATCH: Alison Brown & Steve Martin, “Bluegrass Radio”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Alison Brown & Steve Martin
Hometown: La Jolla, California (Alison); Waco, Texas (Steve)
Song: “Bluegrass Radio”
Release Date: March 15, 2024
Label: Compass Records

In Their Words: “This little tune brings a ton of joy to me. Alison’s playing is flawless, and my singing is flaw-full.” – Steve Martin

“I’m so grateful to all the DJs for playing ‘Foggy Morning Breaking’ and for inspiring Steve to write the lyrics to ‘Bluegrass Radio.’ Thanks to Sam, Stuart, Trey, and Todd for the great playing – and to Steve for the outstanding twin banjo picking.” – Alison Brown

Track Credits:

Steve Martin – vocals, banjo
Alison Brown – banjo
Sam Bush – mandolin, harmony vocals
Stuart Duncan – fiddle
Trey Hensley – guitar, harmony vocals
Todd Phillips – bass

Recorded and mixed by Matt Coles at Compass Sound Studio, Nashville, TN.
Additional recording by Matt Coles at Echo Mountain, Asheville, NC, assisted by Julian Dreyer.
Mastered by Randy LeRoy.
Produced by Alison Brown and Garry West.

Video Credit: Filmed at Compass Sound Studio by Joseph Spence
Additional footage shot by Josh Blake and Shane Peters at Echo Mountain
Edited by Joseph Spence
Photo Credit: Madison Thorn

The Latest Album From Steep Canyon Rangers Showcases Fresh Sounds, New Lineup

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It’s a rather warm evening in the mountains of Western North Carolina. With a sweltering sun slowly fading behind the ancient Blue Ridge peaks, Graham Sharp takes a seat at a picnic table underneath the welcoming shade of an old tree.

He takes a sip of a craft ale and gazes out upon the festive meadows of live music and fellowship behind Highland Brewing on the outskirts of Asheville. For Sharp, it’s a rarity these days for him to be able to sit back and enjoy the city he’s called home for the last 22 years.

Co-founder and de facto leader of the Steep Canyon Rangers, Sharp is at the center of one of the most enduring and cherished acts in the realms of Americana, bluegrass, and indie-folk — whether on its own merit or backing Steve Martin and Martin Short.

The Steep Canyon Rangers at the Western North Carolina retreat where they recorded ‘Morning Shift’ with Darrell Scott producing. Photo by Joey Seawell

At 46, Sharp has spent the majority of his adult life either on the road, onstage, or in the studio. And yet, like any endlessly restless and creatively curious musician worth one’s salt, Sharp feels like he’s just getting started.

“I’m the luckiest man on earth to be able to wake up in the morning and think, ‘I want to play banjo and write songs today,’” Sharp says. “Or am I going to get on a bus and go play some shows? That’s a good feeling to be excited about what you do — 25 years from now, I’ll probably be feeling the same way.”

What started as a rag-tag bunch of green horns jamming traditional bluegrass numbers in the dorms at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, has evolved into a bonafide group selling out venues coast-to-coast.

Throughout the Rangers’ history there’ve been awards and accolades, including three Grammy nominations and one win. There’s also been big stages (Red Rocks Amphitheatre, the Ryman Auditorium, Hollywood Bowl) and even bigger crowds (Bonnaroo, MerleFest, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass).

But, the core of the group resides in its unrelenting quest to dig deeper within itself to uncover another layer of sound and sonic possibility. Most recently, the band has gone through its biggest test to date, with the departure last year of founding member and arguably the gravitational center of the act, singer/guitarist Woody Platt, who decided to take a step back from the spotlight and focus on family.

“There’s a lot of things you can’t control and Woody leaving is a pretty good lesson in that fact that there’s only so much that you have influence over,” Sharp says. “And I’ve seen that with everybody [in the Rangers]. Everybody had worked hard, stepped up and defined their roles better in the band — just buckle down and push ahead.”

Fellow Western North Carolina singer-songwriter Aaron Burdett stepped into the fold to not necessarily replace Platt, but give the Rangers a new avenue to stride down, in terms of songwriting approaches and musical interpretations.

“We really tried to bring Aaron in to have another voice in there. I love having him as another writer,” Sharp says. “We both generate our own stuff and bounce ideas off of each other, where some of it feels like going back to the beginning [of the band] in the feeling.”

And with the Rangers’ latest album, Morning Shift, the sextet now finds itself at the dawn of a new, unwritten chapter of its continued trajectory as a group as sonically elusive as it is bountiful in its melodic pursuits.

“I don’t think you’d call it a chip on the shoulder,” Sharp says. “But, it feels like there’s just a drive we all have to just get better, to have more people hear what we’re doing — and we know what it takes to get there at this point.”

Hunkering down for a week in the off-the-beaten-path, unincorporated community of Bat Cave, North Carolina, the Rangers transformed a small mountain getaway into a makeshift studio. They also enlisted the help of Darrell Scott, the musical legend being tapped to produce the record.

“Darrell isn’t going to mince words — he’s pretty decisive,” Sharp says. “And Darrell spans all these [musical] worlds. He’s a monster picker and singer, and a great writer. We felt like he also comes from that bluegrass [scene], but also is outside of it, [like we are].”

 

What resulted is an album of genuine depth and stoic intent, renewal amid a reinvigorated sense of self. It’s a full-circle kind of thing, with the Steep Canyon Rangers not only reflecting on the past, but, more importantly, still chasing after that unknown horizon of artistic discovery. Our BGS interview with Sharp at Highland Brewing in Asheville continued with a conversation about the group’s changing lineup and dynamic.

It’s been a big year for you guys in a lot of ways — physically, sonically. What’s the dynamic right now? What’s kind of changed?

Graham Sharp: Well, what I’ve noticed is my default method [is] when things go weird, to just work harder.

There’s more of a round-robin feel in the band than before.

GS: Yeah. I get that. That’s what people say, that the dynamic reminds them of The Band, where there’s three or four different singers. And that was part of the deal, part of the thought process of, “Let’s take this role that’s the prototypical lead singer/guitar role and de-emphasize that.” Not totally strip it of everything, but the guitar player’s going to sing 40 or 50 percent of the songs. He’s not going to sing 80 percent of the songs. And part of that plays like a little bit of a safeguard, where if something happens with Aaron two years from now, we don’t want to be back in the same boat, where it’s like we’re losing a big hole out of the middle of the band.

Mandolinist Mike Guggino, in the studio recording the Steep Canyon Rangers’ ‘Morning Shift.’ Shot by Joey Seawell.

Like equally distributed weight now.

GS: Yeah. That’s kind of how we want it. And I think that’s what it needs to be. There’s a lot of talent in [the band] and maybe this is a chance to uncover some of it.

Not to take anything away from Woody and his contributions, but it feels more of a cohesive unit than I’ve ever seen it before.

GS: Isn’t that crazy? And that’s what people have been saying. I don’t know what that is except to say everybody’s stepping up and also making sure everybody else shines a little bit more.

I also wonder if that plays into more camaraderie in the band.

GS: Maybe. I mean, the band is a brotherhood. You couldn’t have more camaraderie than we have. But, that said, if people are feeling like their talents aren’t being put into full use – there’s one thing about being great friends and being brothers, but also on some kind of subconscious level, if you feel like there’s stuff that’s not being utilized, then maybe there’s something else you should be doing, you know?

And there’s maybe a reaffirming of gratitude for how far you guys have come.

GS: No doubt, man. That’s definitely one of the overwhelming things that has come out of this [latest chapter], is just gratitude to still be doing it — just keep going and keep doing it. [With Morning Shift], this record feels like a jumping off point.

The album also reinforces that elusive nature that’s always resided in the Rangers, where the last thing you ever want to be is pigeonholed, musically.

GS: Yeah. But, I love to play the banjo, so I don’t want to grow away from that. And [sometimes] I feel like my writing doesn’t always lend itself to the banjo. So, a lot of my stuff on the banjo ends up being able to figure out how you play to this weird song that doesn’t really call for banjo like a bluegrass song would — that’s part of the fun of [songwriting].

Aaron has now been in the band for a year. What’s surprised you the most about what he’s brought to the Rangers?

GS: We knew he was a great singer when we hired him, so that didn’t come as a surprise. When he sent us his demos, we knew this was our guy. But, the biggest surprise has been just how far apart our musical worlds are. He’s a very different musician than anybody we’ve had in the band. There’s things that he does in his own rhythm. He just has a different touch on the rhythm guitar.

Graham Sharp of the Steep Canyon Rangers recording ‘Morning Shift’ in studio. Photo by Joey Seawell.

There’s definitely a feeling of reinvigoration within the band. Almost 25 years into the Rangers, the band is still at the top of its game. But, playing devil’s advocate, I think there’s now other mountains you can see that you may want to climb?

GS: I think you’re right. I mean, as a band, you only have one introduction to the world. Maybe we were lucky because we got two, the other with Steve Martin. But, right now, it feels more like a collective up onstage. And I think that’s invaluable. Everybody is putting in the work. For example, I’ve always played banjo for a couple hours a day. But, maybe now, I play it for three hours a day. You’re just stepping things up, bringing things up a notch.

What really sticks out when you look back at the early years of the band, this handful of college kids learning to play bluegrass music?

GS: It was 1999. Somewhere in my junior or senior in college. It was myself, [former bassist] Charles [Humphrey] and Woody. Then, [mandolinist] Mike [Guggino] showed up later because he was Woody’s friend from Brevard, [North Carolina]. There was no ambition at the time. The ambition was really, “Let’s learn to play [bluegrass] so it sounds like it does on these records.”

New Grass Revival. [Russell Moore and] IIIrd Tyme Out. We never got to where we sounded like any of those bands. We could never sound like Lonesome River Band. But, take a little bit of this, take a little bit of that and go play onstage at bluegrass festivals. Go to Sears and get some clothes that match. And [a lot of the bluegrass] legends were still around and playing those festivals. Earl [Scruggs] was still around. John Hartford. Jimmy Martin. You know, when you’re young and rising, you’ve got all the momentum, all the buzz. And when you’re established and older, it’s different. Right now, we’re in this in-between period where it’s not newer and it’s not legacy. But, we’re not Billy Strings or Molly Tuttle, either. I still just love going out [there onstage] and proving it every single time — that feeling of doing what it takes to be our best each night.

All photos: Joey Seawell

Listen to an Exclusive Excerpt From Steve Martin’s Pushkin Audiobook

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It’s hard to ascribe a single title to Steve Martin. Throughout his nearly 50-year career in entertainment, Martin has been a stand-up comedian, leading man, art collector, TV star, bestselling author, and writer of a Tony-nominated Broadway musical. And then, of course, there’s his love affair with the banjo. Since childhood, Martin has been deeply connected to the instrument, and over the years he’s performed with everyone from Earl Scruggs to the Steep Canyon Rangers to Kermit the Frog.

Adding to that multi-hyphenate lineup, Martin has now released a new audio-only autobiography detailing his lengthy career with friend and co-author Adam Gopnik (longtime contributor to the New Yorker). So Many Steves: Afternoons With Steve Martin, New Yorker contains a year’s worth of conversations between Martin and Gopnik and was published in May of this year by Pushkin, a podcast and audio production company.

In ten chapters, the two men dive into a wide set of life experiences with the kind of vulnerability and humor reserved for old friends, with chapters ranging from Martin’s teenage years working in Merlin’s Magic Shop at Disneyland to selling out arenas on his stand-up tours. But perhaps most exciting to bluegrass fans will, of course, be the chapter in which Martin details playing “Foggy Mountain Breakdown.” In the early 2000s, Scruggs himself asked Martin to perform on a 75th anniversary album. When Martin showed up at the studio of his idol, however, he was at a loss. “It was so fast,” Martin proclaims, “I couldn’t believe it.”  Practicing for the record kickstarted the second chapter of his musical life, at a time when he’d almost completely walked away from the instrument. 

As a special exclusive, BGS readers can stream the an audio excerpt from So Many Steves (below) for a limited time. The full audiobook is available to download via Pushkin or stream on Audible, Apple Podcasts, and Spotify. Discover more here.

Lonnie Lee Hood and Amy Reitnouer Jacobs contributed to this writing.

Alison Brown: Record Label Founder and Bluegrass “Lifer”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

When a craftsman pauses to reflect, students of all skill levels benefit from the lesson. Alison Brown’s latest album, On Banjo, released May 5 on Compass Records and is a masterclass; it’s also a study on where the instrument has been and where it’s going.

Brown is a Compass co-founder and a GRAMMY Award-winning artist and producer. A self-described “lifer” in the bluegrass community and an IBMA “First Lady of Bluegrass,” she eagerly explores what the five-stringed instrument can do outside typical genre parameters. The new record is packed with star-studded duets with comedian Steve Martin, mandolin player and fellow First Lady of Bluegrass Sierra Hull, and fiddle legend Stuart Duncan.

The result is a varied, rich track list we couldn’t wait to ask Brown about.

BGS: Let’s walk through some of the tracks and collaborations on On Banjo. What kind of music inspired the duet with Anat Cohen?

AB: Anat Cohen is a clarinetist; she was born in Israel and lives in New York, but she’s well-known in jazz circles for Brazilian choro. I actually watched lots of videos of Anat on YouTube.

I reached out. I said “I know we don’t know each other, but would you consider doing this?”

What’s it like working with a famous comedian like Steve Martin in a musical context?

I’ve had the good fortune to go out and do some shows with him and Martin Short. There’s inevitably some time to jam in the dressing room, so it’s fun to play with Steve in that context, too.

Steve’s a great banjo player with a really beautiful touch and a delicate, sweet tone. He loves playing in double C tuning. Banjo players usually tune to a G, but you can drop the fourth string to a C and tune the second [string] up to a C. It’s an old tuning that clawhammer guys use a lot.

The way “Foggy Mountain Breaking,” came about is I wrote the A section. It was during the pandemic. I asked Steve, “Do you wanna write a B part?” He sent me a perfect B section 24 hours later. We figured out a bridge together. It’s named after a lyric in a John Hartford song and is obviously a riff on “Foggy Mountain Breakdown.”

How does it feel to work with younger bluegrass talents like Sierra Hull? Is it gratifying to have a feminine duo on that track?

I wrote that tune hoping Sierra would be up for learning and recording it with me. I’m a huge fan of her mandolin playing; she’s another one with such a delicate touch. Her fingers just really dance over the fingerboard.

It required her to play every fret on the first string of the mandolin and she did it flawlessly. She said she’d never had a chance to work on such complicated music with another woman. So it’s a really special thing. It’s always a delight to play with Sierra, but to do a duet with her was like chocolate and more chocolate.

How do you balance two strong, independent main instruments like banjo and fiddle together, such as with Stuart Duncan?

Banjo and fiddle are just so complementary. They say a banjo and fiddle make a band, and they do.

I’ve known Stuart since he was 11 and I was 12. We go way back. And on this tune I want to give a tip of the hat to Byron Berline and John Hickman. Growing up in Southern California when we did in the ’70s, those two were the guys that everybody worshiped at the feet of. I wanted to try and capture some of that spirit, and I wanted to do it with Stuart.

Who is this album for, and what do you hope listeners take away from it?

That’s the existential question of the banjo player. And it is a bit of a challenge when you take the five-string banjo and go somewhere else with it. Earl Scruggs perpetuated a style and brought it to the masses that was just so electric. Most people think that’s all the banjo does and they don’t worry about its history before that. There’s a lot of voices inside the instrument; the bluegrass one has become the loudest one most recently.

It’s so interesting because at the beginning of the 1800s the banjo was found on plantations. Then white people appropriated that music in minstrel shows, performing in blackface. It’s deep in terms of what it says about our history and America’s original sin.
It went from being a Black instrument to being a white lady’s instrument. The Black voice of the instrument and the female voice of the instrument were both disenfranchised. There are gorgeous old photos of women in the 1890s holding banjos, and there were female banjo orchestras. I’m excited to see that re-emerging.

You started Compass Records with Garry West almost three decades ago. What’s on the horizon, and what are your goals?

All the labels were run by business people, not musicians. We said, “Why can’t musicians run a label for other artists?”

The other part is really wanting to build a label that can have a cultural impact and Garry and I are both invested in roots music. I’ve been a member of the bluegrass community since about 10 years old. I’m a lifer. The whole economy of the record business has been turned upside down and stirred and shaken eight times. We want to make sure this music not only survives but thrives into the future.

You mentioned growing up in SoCal. How is bluegrass there different from Appalachia?

There would be Eagles’ songs in set lists. It was wide open. When I first came east with Stuart and his dad, we drove around and did the festivals in 1978 or so, but it was rooted in the first generation bands’ repertoire.

On that trip we entered a band contest in Oklahoma and we played something we learned from a Richard Green record. It was a funky fiddle thing in E. I remember somebody coming up afterwards and saying “We don’t appreciate you knocking the music.”

What did you learn while making On Banjo?

The deep dive to find new melodies, and that process of discovery of the instrument, is the process of self-discovery. You get to the end and it teaches you something new about yourself.

Photo Credit: Russ Harrington

With Dirty Laundry Piling Up Followers, Marcus Veliz Embraces the Banjo Vibe

Posted on by Editor

A crystalline river flows lazily over rocks, a green hillside rising just beyond it to meet the bluest sky, and Marcus Veliz is clawhammering a hypnotic lick on his banjo in the foreground. “Ever try tuning to the river?” reads the caption to this picturesque reel on his Instagram profile @dirtylaundrytheband. “It might give you a new tune.”

This video, like so many on Veliz’s feed, was taken on one of his “banjo walks” near Reno, Nevada. Veliz likes to go out exploring with his instrument—an RK-OT25-BR, to be exact—when he’s camping or visiting a new city, find a spot that inspires him, and start riffing. “That’s just meditation, chill vibes,” he says. “You’re just trying to kind of tap in. You never know what’s gonna happen.”

The 26-year-old banjo phenom was born in Portland, Oregon, but grew up outside Sacramento in Orangevale, California, where he still lives…sometimes. Life has become more transient these days as he roams freely, a skateboard and banjo in tow, meeting and collaborating with fellow musicians all along the West Coast. His Dirty Laundry project (which sometimes includes other musicians) has drawn nearly 24,000 followers to his Instagram page since he picked up the banjo around three years ago. A musician since childhood, Veliz says the banjo is the latest in a long line of instruments after trumpet, autoharp, fiddle, accordion, spoons, and guitar, and it’s the one that has really stuck.

 

“I tell most people, with the banjo, I already knew how much effort you would need to put into something that’s new. So, when I picked it up, I expected it to take a while, but it kind of just loved me back,” he says. “I probably only had one day off that whole first year. It was really easy. It showed me a bunch.”

While many artists begrudgingly use social media to do the obligatory promotion of their music and upcoming shows, Veliz has wholeheartedly wrapped his arms around it and is using it to carve out a place for himself before ever even releasing a record. In a conversation from the backseat of his car, Veliz expands on what drew him to the instrument, his DIY approach, and what’s next for his music career.

BGS: What was it that made you pick up the banjo?

Veliz: There’s a lot of different things. It was always kind of around. I had a best friend whose dad was a big influence. They’d play Flatt & Scruggs and other stuff. There’s a band called Rail Yard Ghosts, and I got into them and their lead singer—Riley Coyote—the way he plays banjo made me think you didn’t have to just pick, you could do something new with it. I got one and saw what happened, right away started trying clawhammer style and just didn’t take a break from it for like a year. It just kinda clicked. My first banjo was 15 bucks. I went on the letgo app and found one in a town over. They had it as a wall hanging decoration. Everything was there, I just put new strings on it.

 

 

You mentioned Flatt & Scruggs and Rail Yard Ghosts. Who have been some of your other influences?

Stringbean from Hee Haw is really big to me. Grandpa Jones. They just have a jokey-ness about them. Stringbean has these long suspenders that are way down by his ankles and a long shirt, so he just looks super weird, but it’s on purpose. Grandpa Jones has funny banjo songs, too, but they’re both clawhammer style. Then there’s this dude Dock Boggs, he’s like two-finger-style picking, but his playing is just completely rhythmic and different.

In the first year [I was playing banjo], I conveniently got to see Steve Martin, and the Steep Canyon Rangers were with him, so that was a big gnarly experience. All those clawhammer players and seeing old videos of it and stuff, and just the history of it. I started dipping into the gourd banjos in Africa, you got the Caribbean roots and stuff. There’s just too much there for me to leave alone.

You’ve been playing music since middle school. Were you in any bands?

There were probably two, but we never did anything at all. It was just going to a friend’s house and playing and stuff. Then I fell into a whole thrash metal, death metal thing for a long time and got really technical on guitar. And I was doing folk around the same time as kind of an outlet, and then that just kinda took over.

 

 

So, thrash metal, punk, folk music, bluegrass, African and Caribbean—are you pulling from these influences when you’re writing or even just noodling, or are you trying to create your own sound?

I feel like I’m making my own lane in a way. I’ll listen to others saying I’m making a new sound, but I won’t say that I’m making a new sound. It’s refreshing and cool to hear, but I also know anybody that picks up a banjo and plays like clawhammer or two-finger style isn’t gonna sound the same, so it’s hard for me just listening to myself to be able to say anything like that. When I pick it up, I let it do its thing now.

How do you describe your style?

The best way I can describe it is, it’s a vibe. It gives you a mood. I’ve heard other people say it and I think it’s just the easiest way to explain it. It’s all over the place. There’s a lot of songs on guitar that don’t have bridges, but it works better without it. I hate bridges. When it stays like this verse-little thing-verse-bigger thing, but no bridge, it becomes just a vibe, like a lo-fi beat. It doesn’t change, it just keeps going. Dirty Laundry, I always tell people, it’s an idea of sound and vibe. It’s this living entity that I serve. I would just like to please “it,” this idea of sound.

Guided by feeling more than technical prowess?

Yeah, it’s all feels.

 

 

What does Dirty Laundry mean?

Dirty Laundry is kind of my outlet for shit, stuff you’re working through in life, just growing.

You’ve used Instagram and social media to build your audience. How organic or strategic was that?

For the Dirty Laundry project, as far as Instagram, I think I was on there in 2016 even, but it was all guitar-oriented and small. Then [a few years later], Charlie Marks—he’s a banjo player in Reno—we hit each other up and decided to get together and play, so I finally went out there. And I was asking him, “How are you blowing up on Instagram?” and he was like, “Dude, just start posting reels.” It was also a good time for that, so I started doing it. Just every other day, go post something. Then after a while it just started snowballing. It’s been wild.

It’s algorithmic stuff, too, cause if you’re gonna post something in a certain area and tag the place, it’s gonna work with the [other stuff for that tag]. I always wanna put my print that I’ve been here, played in your park. It’s gonna show up on everyone’s feed. There’re people that will post the updates of the algorithm and how it’s gonna work, so you can get smart around that stuff. But it’s kind of more a scavenger hunt in places I’ve been. I’m definitely trying to do some album work in the future. Right now, it’s just kinda been a blessing because I’ve been able to play all these places and not have an album and open for people with nothing.

You’re sort of subverting the traditional process in favor of a truly independent approach, while also subverting assumptions or expectations about what the banjo has to be.

There are definitely some fools watching, managers reaching out. It’s cool, but it’s also like, who else is looking? Makes you want to be hungrier for it.

 

 

How do you feel about TikTok?

I had one and I deleted it because it didn’t feel right. TikTok feels like you post something for it to be seen, but no one really goes to see more of it… I feel like there’s more incentive with Instagram to go to a page and see all the videos, to sit on a page and look at everyone’s content. TikTok’s just built to scroll and leave. I already feel like I have too many people where I’m just their pocket banjo guy.

Is there a scene you’ve experienced on your travels that you want to carve out space for yourself in, or is it more important to you to hang back and establish a stronger one where you already are/where it’s maybe more needed?

A bit of both. Everyone needs to leave their hometown to do something or become something. But definitely New Orleans, with artists like Rail Yard Ghosts and other folk punk, I definitely want to go out there and see if I can even hang with all the other musicians out there that are making a living out of playing on the street. I would like to earn my badge out there. And go to the East eventually and just play everything over there that I can.

I’m more Sacramento area, and there’s still a whole bunch of indie sounds going on. It’s like indie hardcore, and like dad rock bands. It’s not bad for the banjo folk scene. You’re definitely going other places for it, traveling to see better parts of it. But I see it coming up again because of Billy Strings and Sierra Ferrell.

All the heavy hitters I’m definitely watching and observing, taking notes. There’s also this small group in this area, like Charlie Marks, Two Runner, Bar Jay Bar, Water Tower Band. This is all California area. There’s just a bunch of local folk people that are on this side of the coast. It’s funny how we’re lumped in with each other, like we’re all just different corners of the same cloth and we’re all representing folk on the West Coast.

Stone and Sue, they’re like a moving picture from the 1920s. I’m kind of waiting for them to take over. They’re in Oregon. They just play super old-style stuff. I’m so happy to see a band like them. I feel like I have my hands full with so much old stuff. I’m researching still, from ‘20s or ‘30s, so it’s hard to keep an eye on all the stuff going on. I’m still trying to meet Matt Heckler, people like that. It’s all gonna happen eventually.

Photo Credit: Ryan Joseph Moody

Seeking Bluegrass in LA, Ed Helms & Amy Reitnouer Jacobs Made a Scene With BGS

Posted on by Editor

To commemorate the 10th birthday of the Bluegrass Situation, co-founders Ed Helms and Amy Reitnouer Jacobs are taking it all the way back to the beginning. In the first installment of an ongoing interview series, the enthusiastic bluegrass fans reveal how they first met, their shared vision for a modern aesthetic, and the meaning behind the unexpected (yet appropriate) name.

Amy: As we’re looking back on 10 years of The Bluegrass Situation, it occurred to me that you and I have never really reflected on how all of this started and how this thing kind of built up. So I wanted to get our own take on it and… reminisce, stroll down memory lane a bit, and think about it.

Ed: We need a little oral history for the archives! [laughs] And for our own… ’cause it’s exciting to reminisce a little bit.

Amy: I’ll kick it off and ask, what was your intro to bluegrass? Why do you care about this music to begin with and what drew you into it?

Ed: The earliest I can trace back would be growing up in Atlanta, Georgia. My mom’s from Nashville, so we would take road trips from Atlanta to Nashville all the time. In addition to that, I spent many, many summers at a summer camp in the Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. That’s another road trip that’s about a three or four-hour drive from Atlanta.

So, on those drives, we’re always pulling off at truck stops and whatever, and we would pick up cassette tapes at the checkout counter. And my dad, who grew up in Alabama, was always a big fan of opera and classical music. He would grab these string band tapes for some reason. And I started listening to these very generic, early string band tapes when I was 8 years old in the car. They didn’t resonate with me as artists, but the music connected with me somehow. And I associated it with those places — Nashville and the North Carolina mountains.

Then as I got older, I was one of those kids that kind of thought everybody was fake, you know, like Holden Caulfield. Just distressed by all the artificiality of our world and of the people around me and like, “Oh, everyone at school, everything is so performative. Like, who’s real? Who’s the real deal?” And that kind of drew me, musically, into older and older music. I got obsessed with authenticity and where are the roots of things. … I think it scratched some itch that I had for authenticity-seeking, and probably allowed me to feel superior to all my classmates in junior high.

Then when I could actually get to a record store, I remember the very first bluegrass album that I bought was the Bluegrass Album Band. I didn’t know who J.D. Crowe and Vassar Clements and Jerry Douglas were, but all I knew was that on the cover of this CD at Turtle’s Records & Tapes in Atlanta was guys holding banjos and guitars and mandolins. So I bought that album and to this day it’s one of my favorite albums. I’ve never asked Jerry Douglas about this, I should, but it felt like the intention of those albums was to kind of just be the ultimate catalog of, you know…

Amy: I mean, it’s called the Bluegrass Album Band.

Ed: Right. They just called themselves the most generic name. And it’s almost like they were just trying to create a library of excellent bluegrass artists playing the canon or something. Or maybe they were really ahead of their time with like meta irony and they were just like, “We’re going to call ourselves the Bluegrass Album Band, ’cause it’s hilarious.”

And of course Tony Rice’s guitar playing on that – I was very much into guitar at the time, I later picked up a banjo – Tony’s guitar playing was so magical to me. I could not understand how human hands could play what he was doing. I would just pour over these solos. I remember the solo to “Your Love Is Like a Flower,” it just was like, how the hell is that being played? I could not wrap my head around it. And I listened to it a million times, and I didn’t have the technology to slow it down, so I couldn’t do that.

Amy: That album and that band really represent a generational shift. It’s not newgrass. It’s playing the canon, but with this mix of the new guard and some folks with some real cred from the second generation.

Ed: You’re right. It isn’t an old sound, what they’re doing. It’s a new sound at that time, because no one was doing Tony Rice licks before Tony Rice. But the harmonies are timeless and the structure of the songs is very traditional. That album means so much to me and I listen to it to this day and I’m still blown away! I actually can play that solo from “Love Is Like a Flower” now, but only at about half speed. And it’s one of the proudest things, when I finally found – someone had transcribed it in tablature, and I was like, “This is string theory explained. This is like if you had Carl Sagan sit you down and explain the mysteries of the universe.” I was like, “Holy shit, I got it! The holy grail!”

Amy: Yeah. To me, it’s still magic. ‘Cause I am not someone who can play an instrument, at least very well, so when I first heard bluegrass, I was just like, “How does that happen? How do you even get the notes from your brain to your fingers and do it so well, and in a way that I’ve just never heard before?” It still kind of blows me away.

Ed: Can I ask you the same question? Where did you first connect to bluegrass music?

Amy: I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, and there was a lot of country and bluegrass around there. Admittedly, I didn’t like it because to me it represented… I mean, I was really busy listening to showtunes and learning Sondheim lyrics and stuff. I was that kid. And I just thought country and roots music was inherently uncool and representative of this place that I felt like I was stuck in.

It wasn’t until I went to college in North Carolina… It was probably the first few weeks of school, one of my housemates who is still a very dear friend of mine invited me to a show, and it was Nickel Creek. I had never heard of them. I had no idea what I was going in to and Erin said, “I just think you’re going to like this. Just come with me to the show. I’ll drive. We’ll go.” And I can honestly say, that show changed my life. I can still remember the whole show so clearly.

Ed: What year are we talkin’?

Amy: 2005? Somewhere around there. I was kind of reeling from it, because it had been a really long time since I felt like I had been challenged by music that was being played by young people, that I really connected with, but also was just kind of flummoxed by. From there it became a deep dive. I was really fortunate going to school where I did, that there was great bluegrass around. I mean, there was this bar about 30 minutes away called The Cave in Chapel Hill, and we used to go see the Steep Canyon Rangers play there every month. And I mean, this is a tiny underground basement bar, maybe holds 50 people, and they would just have bluegrass jams.

Ed: How close were you to Asheville?

Amy: It was about three hours from Asheville. Asheville is where we went for, like, fall break and our little weekend trips and stuff. We would go to Boone and Asheville, and even Mount Airy had a bluegrass fest that we went to. So that’s when I really started getting into it. And I could say, I think my first significant album purchase was pretty soon after that first concert. It was Why Should the Fire Die? by Nickel Creek. I played that into oblivion and had it in my car for like, 10 years, back when we kept stacks of CDs in our cars.

From there it kind of fell into the background, because I was studying film and I moved to New York. I was working all the time and didn’t really make space in my life for music. By the time I moved out to LA, I was working for a producer and I had one or two friends out here that I knew. Again, working a lot, not making any money and trying to find my place in the city, and not really connecting with a lot of the other assistants that I was meeting at the agencies. And I remember going to see the Get Down Boys at some bar on the west side of LA and having this thing reignited in me that I had felt back in college and was like, “OK, I think these are my people.” There was this momentum happening in LA at that particular time. And that’s how I started getting to know the scene out here and had the idea for the BGLA blog.

Ed: Tell us about BGLA.

Amy: I admittedly was a little bored at work. I was working at the Academy of Motion Pictures at this point, which was exciting, especially for three months of the year around the Awards, but the rest of the time was kind of slow. So I started this Blogspot and wrote about what was happening on the scene in Los Angeles. And then people started pitching me, cause I don’t think anybody was really covering it out here. So suddenly I was getting inquiries to interview these people… I mean, I started going really deep in the music and the history and background and getting to know the scene out here. But I remember getting connected to Sean Watkins (of Nickel Creek), and it was this beautiful, full-circle moment. It was the first time I met Sean and got to talk to him, and we became friends and kind of opened a whole other door to the roots music scene and what it could be. And then I think I met you pretty soon after that.

Ed: So when did we meet? I cannot remember.

Amy: Well, I remember when we first met, but I doubt you remember when we first met. I remember this because it was probably the most nervous I’ve been in my whole life. I saw you at a Sarah Jarosz show at Hotel Cafe. And I walked up to you and gave you one of my business cards for Bluegrass LA. And I was like, “I think you’ll like my blog.” That was it! And I don’t imagine you remember that, but that is technically the first time I met you.

Ed: At some point we had a cup of coffee to talk about possibilities.

Amy: Yes, that’s true.

Ed: But then maybe we bumped into each other… I assumed it was Largo, but I have the vaguest memory of getting a business card from you. So yeah, that part tracks.

Amy: Why don’t you talk about the LA Bluegrass Situation, because that predates me.

Ed: You weren’t even a part of the first LA Bluegrass Situation?

Amy: No. I was there. I went one night. But we didn’t know each other at that point. I just went as a fan.

Ed: The first time I ever went to Largo was when John Krasinski took me to see Aimee Mann playing at the Fairfax Largo. We went in through the back and I just was like, “Whoa, what is this incredible vibe?” This whole place is just so, so cool. And eventually Flanny (the owner of Largo) invited me to do stand-up on some people’s shows, and one night he said, “Why don’t you do a show?” And I thought, “OK, cool. It’d be fun to mix music and comedy.” So I think the first show that I did at Largo was called “Hams and Jams.” [Laughs] The idea was like, “Oh, it’s hams, like comedy people, and jams, music people!” And I just mixed up some comedians and musicians with a terrible name that Flanny was so gracious about rolling with.

We really loved that combination, but I was really struggling to wrap my head around the LA bluegrass scene. It just was so disparate, but somehow we managed to get excited about trying to cultivate the scene and coalesce things a little bit more. And I think that was the idea… that was the sort of original inertia behind the first LA Bluegrass Situation. The name literally just came from Flanny talking about it before we named it. He just kept talking about it as the bluegrass situation that we were dealing with. So then when it came time to be like, “What are we going to call it?” I was like, “Well, you’ve been saying this awesome thing because there’s something a little cheeky about a ‘situation.'” Like, it feels like, you know, “We got ourselves a situation, here!” Like it just kind of has some irreverence built into it.

So that’s what we named it, and Flanny and I both pulled as many strings as we could with whatever relationships we had at the time and put a totally magical lineup together. Like I still can’t wrap my head around it. I mean, it was Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch and Steve Martin and Steep Canyon Rangers and Nickel Creek and Punch Brothers and the Infamous Stringdusters… Oh, and of course the Lonesome Trio, my crew, with my friends Ian and Jake. We were sort of the hosts.

Amy: I remember I got an email from you not long after that, which was pretty shocking. What was the impetus of that, do you remember?

Ed: Yeah, I think that I was feeling pretty heady after that first LA Bluegrass Situation and probably getting over my skis a little bit and being like, “We can create the ultimate hub of bluegrass for Los Angeles and it will be this Tower of Babel that everyone will flock to!” I had so many ideas. There were so many things that I found lacking in Los Angeles that I had taken for granted in New York. There are just so many website resources. “You want a banjo teacher? Look here, there’s tons in New York City. You want to see what shows are happening? Look here!” You could just find stuff in New York City and you couldn’t find stuff in Los Angeles.

Amy: I look at the branding of that initial site and that first logo — I think DKNG did our first logo in Santa Monica — and I remember being really proud of the fact that we didn’t look stereotypical of the era.

Ed: You’re so right. And I give you so much credit for that because the very first LA Bluegrass Situation, Hatch Show Print did a bunch of posters for us. And they were so cool. I still have a bunch and I’m really proud of that, but it was also leaning really hard into a very conventional, stereotypical bluegrass aesthetic. It was a funny wake-up call for me – that plus your input. It helped me realize that what we wanted to do and where we wanted to go as fans and supporters of this idiom was not retro, like it was…

Amy: Forward-thinking.

Ed: Forward. And that artists like Chris Thile were doing that musically, right? But there was a little bit of a reckoning of “What’s our brand going to feel like? What do we want it to evoke? And who do we want to connect with? Do we want to connect with young people who are finding this stuff for the first time and finding it really fresh and exciting?”

Amy: That was always the crux of it for me. To a large extent, that aesthetic is still very alive and well within the roots music community. I had an inkling that there was an audience that had different tastes, but still could love this music and that it didn’t all have to look the same way. I could have never predicted where it went and what we’ve worked on since, but I think at the beginning we were very “of the moment.” It was the same time that Mumford & Sons and the Lumineers were on the top of the charts, and there was this kind of “authenticity” movement taking place.

Ed: I remember going to business meetings with Hollywood producers and one guy had a banjo in his office. And I was like, “You play the banjo?” And he’s like, “No, no, but I want to learn!” But you’re right. It was a moment. I’ve felt like an old fuddy duddy since I was 12 years old, but I was like, “Was I ahead of the curve here?”

Amy: Yeah, similarly, I’ve kind of always felt like an old soul; I never really felt like I truly fit in to my time, so I think there was something that really drew me in to that zeitgeist, but what amazed me was that once we really got into it, it was so much more complex and modern and exciting than I ever expected.

Editor’s Note: Look for the next part of this conversation with Ed Helms and Amy Reitnouer Jacobs in the weeks ahead.

BGS Top 50 Moments: The LA Bluegrass Situation at Largo

Posted on by Amy Reitnouer

It was 2010 when the true origins of “The Sitch” first materialized.  For five days in May, BGS founder Ed Helms congregated a lauded lineup of roots artists at the storied Largo at the Coronet Theatre in Los Angeles.  That first annual LA Bluegrass Situation festival included the likes of Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers, The Watkins Family Hour, Gillian Welch, Will Ferrell, Jackson Browne, The Infamous Stringdusters, and Ed’s Whiskey Sour Radio Hour variety showcase.

In the festivals that followed, LABS brought in the likes of Nickel Creek, John C. Reilly, the Punch Brothers, Willie Watson, and many others before broadening to bigger venues across Los Angeles.  The online iteration of “The Bluegrass Sitch” wouldn’t come to fruition for another two years, but the heart of it was all there, on stage at Largo, from the very start.

Photo Credit: Lincoln Andrew Defour

Double the Banjos, Double the Fun!

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Twin fiddles are the bluegrass instrumental duo that get all the attention, but double banjos are really where it’s at. (Is this writer a banjo player? Why, yes. Is this writer biased? Why, of course!) It makes sense that twin or triple fiddling would end up more popular than double or triple banjos, given that fiddles are sounded by bows, so the melodic contours are more like vocal harmony, often longer phrases and bow strokes languidly and charismatically laced together. Banjos, with their rapid-fire sixteenth notes and syncopated, idiosyncratic rolls, are just more difficult to sync up. Hundreds – if not thousands – of banjo jokes devoted to rhythm and timing will certainly back that claim up.

But double banjo is an art form as old as bluegrass itself – and older, by quite a few dozen decades, if you count early American popular music, banjo orchestras, minstrel and vaudeville songs that all centered banjos before and during the turn of the 19th to 20th century.

In bluegrass, twin five-strings are at their most astounding in jaw-dropping and acrobatic contexts such as High Fidelity’s incredible rendition of the Don Reno classic instrumental, “Follow the Leader.” Famous for his steel guitar and chicken-pickin’ Telecaster licks transferred to banjo, Reno’s harebrained and wonky turns of phrase might seem like the last musical context in which one should attempt perfect synchronization, especially on banjo, but Jeremy Stephens and Kurt Stephenson defy reason, logic, and surely physics with their buttery, seamless, double banjo blend. The track perfectly encapsulates the “WHAT IS THAT!?” quality of five-string, three-finger banjo – raised to the second power.

Anyone who grew up tuning in to or has ever binge-watched reruns of Hee Haw knows the beauty of a good double, triple, quadruple, quintuple banjo number, a common feature of the homespun country, comedy, and pickin’ variety show. Roy Clark, the Hee Haw host who could tear through almost any instrument in any style, released an entire album of double banjo music with regular Hee Haw guest Buck Trent in 1978 called Banjo Bandits. “Down Yonder” kicks with all-too-rare (and certainly delicious) bluegrass piano, a delightful intro to a bluegrass, old-time, and American songbook standard that almost sounds like a carnival merry-go-round thanks to the effect of the banjos “in stereo.” Banjo Bandits is something like a bluegrass and country double banjo primer, every track a stunning example of the form.

Like twin fiddling, double banjo lends itself so intuitively to the collaborative, community quality of bluegrass music. Through many a duo album and “featured artist” slot pickers have been using double banjo tunes to bring in their favorites, their mentors, their heroes, and their peers to swap licks, rising and falling, rolling and tumbling in breakneck unison. Alison Brown’s first Grammy Award was won for “Leaving Cottondale,” her double banjo instrumental with Béla Fleck from her also-nominated 2000 record, Fair Weather. In 2007, modern banjo hero Tony Trischka released a 14-track album of all twin banjo tunes entitled Double Banjo Bluegrass Spectacular. Its roster included Earl Scruggs, Brown, Fleck, Noam Pikelny, Steve Martin, and more. On “Doggy Salt,” a silly, winking instrumental that reconfigures the classic chord progression of “Salty Dog,” Scott Vestal joins Trischka, leaning into the humorous, comedic quality of these sorts of duets — a quality we see in Banjo Bandits and “Follow the Leader,” too.

Do not be mistaken, though, putting together a banjo duet isn’t just a comedic or intra-bluegrass activity! Cross-genre double banjo forays are certainly just as delightful, if not rarer and even more difficult to lock into rhythmic synchronization. Those that can mesh together three-finger’s rolling right hand with clawhammer and frailing’s loping, looser right hand are true virtuosos, defying not one but two genre’s expectations that banjos are intrinsically arhythmic and constantly rushing. Old-time players like Allison de Groot, Cathy Fink, Mark Johnson, Victor Furtado, and others all make it look and sound easy, matching their bluegrass compatriots’ rhythms and syncopations with ease and not just blending in, but counterpointing tastefully as well. One such recording, “Cluck Old Hen” from Pikelny’s Beat the Devil and Carry a Rail project, features Steve Martin, once again, on clawhammer. A less traditional approach, the two play with textures and senses, not striving for perfect unison, but rather exploring what an old-time-and-bluegrass dialogue can look and sound like, expanding our ideas of what twin banjo can be.

No matter the context, genre, roster of pickers, or style of playing, this fact remains true: more banjos equals more fun. (To this writer, at least.)

BGS 5+5: Graham Sharp

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Graham Sharp
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina
Latest Album: Truer Picture

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I think Steve Martin has influenced me more than any other artist. The level of attention and devotion he brings to every project (music, film, books, etc.) is inspiring. I don’t think I know any other artist quite so single-minded as Steve. When we began working together I had no expectations, but could easily picture him resting on his past success and coasting; nothing could be further from the truth. Over and over again he’s shown that to be successful you have to put in the daily work, keep pushing yourself and not be afraid to take chances.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

I try to keep a few approaches in my toolkit, so if A isn’t happening one day maybe B, C, or D will. Sometimes I’ll try to remove myself completely from a song and let the story unfold. More often I can’t quite get away from myself and a lyric is my way of processing a situation. Likewise, I like to place myself in a more unfamiliar setting and try on a different voice or perspective. I think my songs, in general, have become more personal over the years and they’ve helped me be more empathetic. Often a song can encourage me to say what is otherwise scary or difficult to express.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

The toughest time I had writing a song was probably “Honey on My Tongue” from the newest Steep Canyon Rangers album. We were holed up in a hotel in Vancouver for several days with no shows. I wanted to use the time to write a song for my daughter but sat there with paper and pen for hours on end with little or nothing to show for it. At some point I bought a ticket and visited a little Japanese garden nearby. But when we left town I still had nothing to show for it. It was familiar frustration of having something in sight but just out of reach. I try not to let that bother me too much, but it’s often in the background. When we got to the next tour stop, maybe Calgary, I got out my guitar backstage and the first thing that I played was a little melody. After that the whole tune just fell into place. Those are good moments.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I write directly about nature a lot. The song “Deeper Family” is a good example. I was spending time in the woods hiking and had just read The Overstory by Richard Powers. The book talks about the interconnectedness of the forest and a vast life taking place underground. Other times, the woods is simply a great place to let the mind wander and find itself. The forests feel have the great effect of calming the brain while firing up the senses. After a bike ride I can usually count on a new line or perspective or melody.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?

I tend to write best and most when I’m reading books, stories, or poems that I love. Short stories especially mirror what a song sets out to do. The scene is set and characters come to life so completely and economically. I think the same about the best songs, where no word is wasted and every line has a purpose.

Terry Allen – “The Beautiful Waitress”

The way he paints a scene, you find yourself sitting there in the booth with your bowl of chili and you can’t help but fall in love with the beautiful waitress. I admire writers who can set you down in a world so completely that you start filling in all the gaps from your own imagination. And the spoken word outro is the maybe the best ever.

Don Williams – “Some Broken Hearts Never Mend”

A perfect country song, outlaw with a soft touch. If I could trade my voice for anyone’s it would be Don Williams.

Nina Simone – “The Assignment Sequence”

The way this song starts in easy and builds to a monumentally intense groove never fails to get my heart pounding. Nina Simone is one of the absolute giants of American music, and she has long held my fascination and admiration.

Steep Canyon Rangers – “Honey on My Tongue”

A little song I wrote for my daughter. It’s hard to encapsulate everything that is the love of a parent but I’m proud of how this one turned out. I love the band’s take on it, from Barrett’s Astral Weeks-style bass to Ashworth (normally our drummer) playing a fantastical bubbly banjo line.

Graham Sharp – “Generation Blues”

When chaos seemed like it would swallow the world back last year, I wrote this while thinking about what we’ve inherited and what we can choose to bring with us or leave behind. Seth Kauffman, who produced the record, must have intuited how much I like The Kinks because the feel on this landed just where I didn’t know I wanted it; it seemed like he did that for every track on the record!

Photo credit: Sandlin Gaither